


Forgiveness

by dragonwriter24cmf



Series: Afterlife [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Afterlife, Angst, Feels, Healing, Reconciliation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-31
Updated: 2019-12-31
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:40:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22058698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragonwriter24cmf/pseuds/dragonwriter24cmf
Summary: Severus Snape steps through the gateway after Harry leaves him in Kings Cross. But what will he find there?
Series: Afterlife [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1582354
Comments: 2
Kudos: 22





	Forgiveness

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: All characters belong to J.K. Rowling

**Forgiveness**

Severus Snape watched at the Potter boy disappeared into the mist, then turned back to face the portal that had opened up, only yards away from where he stood.

It sparkled to his eyes, a curtain of luminescent fire. The exact opposite of the curtain Black had fallen through two years ago. He eyed it with trepidation.

He was tempted to stay where he was. The white-washed platform of King's Cross was hardly the worst place he would have envisioned to spend eternity. Dull as it was, it was peaceful, and painless, save for the wound to his heart. But that would hurt wherever he went.

He was almost tempted to turn back, to return to where he'd come from, in spite of his promise to Potter. Hell though it had been, that had been his choice. His place. And regardless of the boy's words, it was no less than he deserved.

And yet, Potter had offered him mercy. Mercy without judgment, and with very few strings attached. It was a rare gift. He was reluctant to reject it. Even more so to return to the hell the youth had broken him out of. If that was his destination regardless, so be it, but at least he vowed that James Potter's son would not be able to accuse him of breaking faith. Besides, the boy's words were still ringing in his ears.

_ 'Even if she hates you, don't you want at least one chance to say everything you wish you'd said before she died? And if she really did forgive you and want to mend things, wouldn't you want to know?' _

He did. The desire to know, to face Lily one last time and at least apologize, was a physical ache in his chest, match to the wound upon his breast. It didn't matter if she spat at him, cursed him, reviled him. If she threw him back into the hell her son had claimed him from, it would still be worth it.

He had never had a chance to apologize to her, for inadvertently betraying her. For putting her and her family in danger. He had never had a chance to apologize to her for the events that had led to her death, for his part in it. He had never had a chance to beg her forgiveness, for the mistakes of his youth. And that, in the end, was the only thing he had ever truly wished for.

Severus Snape took a deep breath, then strode forward into the curtain of fire. Into the world on the other side of the veil.

He stumbled out into a room he knew, a room he knew almost better than any other. His heart lurched in his chest, a sick feeling rushing through him and making his knees weak. “No.”

“Relax, my dear boy.”

The voice was a familiar one, and it hurt to hear it. He stiffened, then turned to face the speaker. “Albus.”

Albus Dumbledore stood behind the desk in sweeping blue robes, dotted with stars. His hands were both whole and unblemished. His hair was still white, his face still aged, but the lines of care and toil and war, of the grief and strain that were the price of living through three wars, had smoothed, leaving him looking younger than he had when Severus had known him.

Dumbledore smiled. “Welcome, my dear boy.” He held out his arms in a wide, embracing gesture. “I am glad to see that young Harry succeeded in finding you.”

Severus swallowed hard. “Headmaster...please...” To see Albus in these rooms, where the man had demanded his life, his service, demanded to be murdered at his hand...where he had heard the truth of the prophecy and sworn to protect Lily's son...where he had sat and watched as Death Eaters tortured the children Albus had bid him keep safe, defiled the Castle...it was too much.

Perhaps the old wizard sensed his thoughts. “A change of venue, perhaps, is in order.” He raised his hand, and the office melted away, to become the outdoor grounds of Hogwarts Castle. “Perhaps, this is a bit better?”

Severus breathed deeply, forcing himself to calm. “It is.”

“Then, let us walk, and you may speak to me of what you will.” Albus gestured.

Severus fell into step beside him. The air was warm, comfortable, shaded in a sort of evening twilight. He let himself drink in the air, let it calm him. Finally, he felt steady enough to speak. “I confess, if this is heaven...”

“It is not. Or rather, it is not the entirety of it. This is merely the place where I find the most peace. And where I thought you might be most comfortable meeting with me.” Albus's voice was calm, even, giving no hint to his mood. “When you have met all those who wish to speak to you, and have made your peace with your life, then I suspect you will find that this place is...whatever you want it to be.”

Whatever he wanted it to be. He had no idea what that was. He had spent his life in Spinner's End, where memories of his parents choked him. He had spent his years in Hogwarts, where the Marauders had all but destroyed his youth, and later his grief and guilt had shrouded him. He had spent his time among the Death Eaters, and the less of those memories he lived with, the better.

He pushed those thoughts away, and allowed a sarcastic smile to twist one corner of his mouth. “I suppose Potter was right then? You were waiting for me.”

“I was.” The old man was still calm.

Bitterness surged him, black and painful. “Why?” He turned to face the older wizard, and Dumbledore stopped and faced him. “Why? Will you yet demand more of me?” His hands clenched into fists. For a moment, he made an effort to control himself. But Dumbledore remained standing there, that calm, serene look on his face, and the words wrenched themselves from him, like a bursting dam. “I suffered for you. I was tortured for you. I tortured innocents for you, and watched them die. Including members of your own staff, like Charity Burbage. I committed murder for you, including taking your life! I watched those monsters in Hogwarts, trying to defend your children and your precious friends from the shadows while they cursed me and all but spat at me in public. All for your agenda, so I could send to his death the one thing I still held any value for. Lily's child. All of that, to send him like a lamb to the slaughter, to be bait for the Dark Lord. To fulfill a meaningless prophecy that could have been finished years before this, had you only trusted me! Trusted someone! And now that I have died in this imbecilic power struggle over a teenager, will you yet demand more, Albus?”

He stopped, his chest heaving. He wanted to run, to disappear, but somehow, he could not look away from that aged and calm face. Could not look away from the sadness in those deep blue eyes, and the single shining tear that etched it's way down Albus's face and vanished into his beard.

Then Albus shook his head and spoke, his voice soft and full of regret. “No, my boy. I will not demand anything further of you. I will only ask, one final thing. And I shall understand completely if you do not wish to give it.” He held out his hands in a beseeching gesture. “This one thing alone will I ask of you, Severus.”

“What?” He wanted to turn away, to refuse to listen, but he had never been able to do that, not since the old man had claimed his services in exchange for Lily's protection.

“I ask your forgiveness, for all the many things I have put you through.” Albus bowed his head.

Severus froze, staring at the man who had been his bane as a youth, his protector and even sort of mentor as an adult. Who had, in many ways, been his worst tormentor as well.

His throat felt dry. His head ached. His chest ached. Had he still been alive, he would have passed out from oxygen starvation. He didn't know what he wanted to say.

A bitter laugh finally forced it's way out of his throat. “My forgiveness, Albus? You will ask me to forgive you, after you forced me to murder you? In front of witnesses? In front of people who had been my colleagues for a decade and a half, in front of two boys who had been my students for five years, even if one of them despised me?” Another edged laugh left his throat feeling raw. “Murderers do not get asked for  _ forgiveness _ , Albus. Were any of our colleagues here, they would demand I grovel and apologize on bended knee. If they were not busy spitting in my face.”

“That is quite possibly true. However, we both know the truth. And the truth is that I asked of you a terrible thing, perhaps the worst thing I have ever asked of you. And yet, despite the pain it cost you, you have done every last thing I demanded of you. And thus, I think it only fair that I am the one to apologize, for the truly terrible position I placed you in, and all the suffering you endured on my behalf.”

It hurt and abruptly, he no longer cared about holding back. There was nothing more that could be done to him. And if he were condemned to hell in the end, he would have at least this. “You knew, that the Dark Lord would seek your wand. The Elder Wand. That he would assume I was it's master, after your death, and confront me.”

“I did. Though I had hoped he would be satisfied with simply defeating you. That he would value your services too much to take your life.”

“The Dark Lord would have killed his own son if he thought him a rival for power.” the angry laughter threatened to tear through him again, and he could not tell if he felt more inclined to anger or tears. “You wanted it to be me, rather than Draco, not simply to spare the boy's soul, but so that the wand would pass to an adult rather than a child. So that if the Dark Lord chose to sacrifice the wand's owner, it would not be one of those children you considered 'innocent'.” The word ripped from him, feeling almost bitter in his mouth.

There was shame in Albus's face. “I must confess, the thought did occur to me. Of course, I also thought you stood a better chance, should the Dark Lord choose to duel for the wand. Draco would have had no chance at survival. But you have always been a very powerful, extremely gifted wizard, my boy. I had thought that you, of all those I knew, might stand the best chance of surviving such a confrontation.”

He supposed that was almost a compliment. He didn't care, all he cared for was the burning ache in his soul, the pain that made him tremble. “You knew that Potter would survive. That there was a chance that he would be able to return.”

“I suspected as much in his fourth year, when he told me how Voldemort had used his blood to return. I suspected the tie that linked them might preserve his life. The incidents that followed, a year later, served to confirm my suspicions that Voldemort's Horcrux resided within young Harry. As the Killing Curse is only meant to take one life, generally speaking, I was fairly certain that Voldemort sending Harry to his death in that manner would only kill the Horcrux, and might leave young Harry relatively unharmed.”

“You did not tell me.” That hurt. Dumbledore had told him that he was sending the boy to his death, with no hope of any other outcome. “You did not give me anything to hope for."

“I did not.”

“Why?” He found himself whispering the word, his throat and chest too tight to speak any louder. “Why, Albus? You let believe I sent him to his doom. That I would end my duties by sacrificing the one thing I swore to protect. Why? Did you distrust me so much? Did you have so little faith in my abilities to hide information? Did my peace of mind, what little there was of it, mean so little to you? Was I so...so worthless, that you did not think I deserved even that small scrap of comfort, of hope?” His throat locked up, his chest burning with anger and anguish mixed together in a suffocating combination, more potent than any potion he had ever brewed. His eyes were stinging with tears that he refused to let form, refused to let fall.

“That was not my reason.” Dumbledore's expression was grave, and to his shock, the elder wizard was crying as well, another tear tracing down his cheek. “I did not tell you because I could not be certain that I was correct. The things that passed between Voldemort and Harry were strange forces, the like of which I had never witnessed. I only guessed that Harry might return. But that guess hinged on Harry's strength, the nature of Death and the Killing Curse, and possibly on Harry's own mastery of death. There were many factors I had no way of calculating. That is why I did not tell you. I did not wish to give you hope, only to have it ripped away from you once again.”

He didn't know if he believed the old wizard. He didn't know if he cared. It just hurt too much. He could feel his nails cutting into the palms of his hands as he stared at Albus. “You sacrificed my childhood to the Marauders. You let them hurt me, humiliate me, nearly kill me. You sacrificed my adulthood as your spy, chained me to your side as tightly as the Dark Lord ever did. You left no mark, but the bonds you commanded of me were as tight as the one he branded into my flesh when I was barely an adult.” He clenched his jaw. “Tell me, was I ever worth more than rubbish to you? Ever worth more than something to be used and discarded? A sacrifice for the greater good, for your plans? Was the day I killed you, the day the Dark Lord tore out my throat, the day I had the greatest value to you?”

He didn't want to know the answer. He couldn't bear not to. Both paths hurt, hurt like knives in his breast, like poison in his heart.

Albus stood before him for a long moment in silence, head bowed. And when the old wizard began to speak, his voice was soft and full of regret. “I must confess, I made a grave error, several grave errors, all those years ago, when you became a student in my school. You are, in fact, quite correct. I permitted James and his friends far too many liberties, and I did not care for you nearly as well as I should have. In truth, I was blinded by my own fears.”

Albus hesitated a moment. “Tom Riddle was, much like yourself, a boy from a disadvantaged living situation. Proud, strong, gifted....indeed, there were many parallels between you, not the least of which was the House into which you were sorted. In fact, there was only one crucial difference between you. Tom Riddle was one of the most popular, most well-respected boys of his year, or indeed, of his time at Hogwarts. And you...you were not. I fear, when I realized the similarities between you, I reacted...badly. It was not, I think, a conscious choice, but I acted on a desire to minimize those similarities. Thus, I did not protect you. Worse, I encouraged your downfall, encouraged those who harassed you. It was a grave mistake, and I understand quite well that it is not fair for you to ask me to forgive you for it.”

He swallowed around the burning in his throat. “Had you protected me...had you even once encouraged me...”

“Had I protected and encouraged you, or even treated you fairly, things would have most likely turned out quite differently.”

“I would have given everything to you. I would have followed you to the end, been your strongest weapon against the Dark Lord. And Potter's son would have been my own.” The words hurt to say, the voicing of a bitter gall that had choked him for nearly two decades.

“And so I learned, far too late for either of us.” Albus stopped a moment, then continued his words. “When you came to me, those many years ago, asking for protection for Lily Potter, I did not think much of you. I did not expect you, in all honesty, to be true to your pledge. I expected you to fight more against protecting James, knowing how bitter your rivalry was. I expected you to hesitate at what I asked you to do in return. In truth, you would have been within your rights to do so. And yet...you never once protested. Oh, there was some argument between us, of course. You were angry over many things, and rightfully so, considering the history you had with me. But you never hesitated. You went willingly into Voldemort's camp as my spy, took risks that I should not have ever asked you to take. Your information allowed us to find a stalemate, of sorts. And I began to realize, as I watched you...that I had been mistaken. For all your similarities to Tom Riddle, you had a capacity for love, and for self-sacrifice, and for courage, that many could not hope to match. Certainly not Tom Riddle, who has never cared for anything but himself. For all your failings, you were indeed one of the strongest, bravest men it had ever been my pleasure to work with. And yet, I could not tell you.”

Dumbledore's voice cracked a little. Severus felt as though he were cracking himself. “The night Lily and James died, I should have told you all of this. And yet, I did not, any more than I revealed the reason I could not. That night, I did not tell you the whole truth. Not just Lily and James sacrifices, but yours as well, were part of Harry's protections. I knew that he would need you, need your strength and your courage. And so...instead of comforting you as I should have, instead of assuring you of how much I valued you, I goaded you. I convinced you to live, to protect Harry, to turn all of that formidable fire to be his shield. And in doing so, I felt that I quite lost the right to tell you how I felt about you at all. After all, how could you believe me? And that fact held even more true three years ago, when I sent you back into Voldemort's hands. The closest I ever came was one day by the lake. Perhaps you remember it?”

“You said that sometimes, you felt we Sorted too soon.” His hands were shaking, and his voice was not much better. “Tell me truthfully Albus.” he waited until the older wizard met his gaze. “Tell me truthfully. What am I to you?”

Albus lifted his hands and laid them on his shoulders. Severus flinched, but didn't pull away, though he trembled still. “The truth, Severus, is exactly this. That you are the person that I have trusted the most, among my many friends and colleagues, for many, many years. I chose you to be the author of my death, not simply to protect the school, or Draco, but quite honestly because there is no other person who's hand I would rather have died by. There is no other whom I respected so deeply, whose honor and courage I had such faith in, that I would have asked to do such a thing. Not even McGonagall, who has been my friend for many decades. You, above all, were the one I placed my faith in, along with Harry. And now, I can safely say that I have never been prouder of, or more humbled by, any other student whom I have taught, in all my many years. Nor has there ever been one I have shed quite so many tears for.”

He looked into Dumbledore's face. The tear tracks were deeper now, dripping from the old man's eyes and into his beard.

He hadn't meant to ask, but the question slipped from him anyway. “Did you ever love me, as you loved Potter, Headmaster?” He wished he could take it back, but it was impossible.

Dumbledore stepped forward and pulled him into a strong embrace. It felt shocking, foreign, and it was all he could do to stop from pushing the old man away. And yet...it felt good as well, something he had longed for, for so long he had forgotten he wanted it.

“For many years, my boy, and never more than at the last, when you granted me mercy, at the cost of your own heart.”

The words fell on his ear, like the deep chiming of funeral bells. Something stilled deep inside him, as if he'd taken the cauldron of his own tortured emotions off the fire, and was now watching them simmer. As if the words Dumbledore had spoken had become the one thing needed, to transform an explosion into a Calming Draught. It still burned, deep inside, but some great hurt that he had not even been aware of, had not wanted to be aware of, seemed soothed.

He stepped back, and Dumbledore stood looking him in the face, the tear tracks drying on his cheeks.

Severus thought a moment, then spoke, his voice low and raw in the aftermath of what had passed between them. “I thought I would hate you, for what you asked of me. What you demanded of me. I thought I wanted to hate you. But I do not.” He swallowed. “I do not know yet, if I will forgive you, Dumbledore. I do not know if I can. But I do not hate you, at least. What I feel, even I do not know. But...give me time. Grant me that, for a little while. Please.”

“Of course. There is all the time in the world now.”

Severus swallowed again. He wanted to leave Dumbledore, but he had no idea where he wanted to go. He wanted to see Lily, but in the aftermath of this baring of his soul, he was afraid to. It would shatter him, he thought, to see her now.

Once again, the words escaped him without conscious thought. “What do I do now, Albus?”

“If you will consent to take the suggestion of an old man, then I highly recommend a walk down by the lake.” Albus folded his hands into his robe sleeves, looking over the grounds. “Having established this place as neutral territory, I believe the others are waiting for you in that direction.”

“Others?” he couldn't keep the shock out of his voice, and decided he no longer cared.

“Of course. You didn't think I was the only one, did you?” There was the faintest twinkle in Albus's eye.

“I see.” He had no idea who else might want to speak to him. The thought that it might be Lily sent a pang through his chest, fierce and sharp as a sword. But still...he wanted to know. “Very well.” he gave Albus a final nod of farewell, then turned away and set off for the lake.

He hadn't noticed before, in his distraction, how tranquil the atmosphere was. The twilight made the world hazy, bright enough to see and to chase away night's dark fears, dark enough that the brightness didn't hurt. A small, light breeze teased through his hair and his robes, a gentle kiss of wind that somehow soothed without being strong enough to be irritating. The air smelled as it had always smelled at Hogwarts, at least during the summers. Sweet and fresh and clean, with a hint of flowers and of water off the lake, of wood and earth.

He'd had no time to notice such things in the last year. No time, and no inclination, preoccupied as he had been by the protection of Hogwarts, his concerns over what the Potter boy was doing, his fears for the students and staff at the school. The few times he'd chanced being out on the grounds, it had only been because he was so nauseated by the situation that he'd felt he would be physically ill. And that had been a weakness he could not afford.

But now...he let his stride slow to a leisurely stroll, breathing deep of the scents that surrounded him. He had always liked flowers and grass and summer air. Several types of flowers and grasses were useful for potions, of course, but outdoor smells to him had always meant freedom. And in his youth, time with Lily. In his adulthood, it had been an escape from the walls that bound him.

He was so preoccupied with his thoughts, with letting himself relax, that he didn't notice the three figures who materialized out of the dusk and approached him. Not until one of them cleared his throat and addressed him. “Good evening, Severus.”

Severus froze, whipping about to face the three men standing a few yards away, eyes hardening as his body tensed. “Lupin.”

James Potter, Remus Lupin, and Sirius Black. All three stood before him, James in the middle, Sirius on his right and Lupin on his left, all three wearing easy smiles that did nothing to ease his apprehension.

James looked as he had at his death, though without the fear that had marked his face. Remus looked younger, the scars from his many werewolf transformations erased. Sirius black looked much the same as well, but the madness was gone from his face, as well as the emaciated haunted look that had been burned into his features over twelve years in Azkaban.

James laughed, sounding completely at ease. “Relax, Severus. We're not here to hex you.”

“Are you not?” He couldn't relax, any more than he would have if he'd been face to face with a boggart. “You expect me to believe that you are not here to do what your son refused to? That you did not confront me with an intent to punish me, to revenge yourself of the wrongs you feel I have done you?” He felt his lip curling in a sneer, but his chest was tight.

“It's nothing like that.” Sirius Black shrugged. “I think we've all rather gotten past that stage in our existence.” One corner of his mouth quirked up in a grin, looking odd without the characteristic wariness and sharpness that he'd always possessed. “Even me, if you can believe that. Though I suppose it took losing my life to get that far. James and Remus here were a bit faster on the uptake than I was.” He nudged James playfully with an elbow.

James didn't respond. Instead, he continued to meet Severus's gaze, a kind, serene smile on his face.

It was Harry's smile. He'd thought the boy had Lily's smile, but he could see Harry in the curve of the mouth, the angle of the head. The way one corner of his mouth was higher than the other.

Remus sighed and shook his head. “Well, if you're so convinced that we're here to punish you, perhaps you ought to tell us what you think your transgressions are.” He smiled. “Personally, I've always liked to know the reason I'm after someone, especially if I wasn't planning on an attack.”

There were so many word he could say to that, so many bitter retorts that sprung to his mind. “I didn't think you  _ needed _ a reason.” The words felt like acid on his tongue. 

“We'll get to that. But...why don't you start? Go on, tell us why you think we're here.” Sirius gestured.

He swallowed hard, met Black's eyes, a painful grimace twisting his mouth. “I should think you yourself could think of a dozen reasons, based on your time in Grimmuald Place alone. Or have you forgotten the many taunts I delivered to you, the mockery? The goading?”

Black shrugged. “I rather think I gave as much as I got, there. And to be honest, I kind of deserved it. I won't lie and say your delivery doesn't need a little work...” The easy smile somehow took the sting out of his words, though Severus could not have said why. “...but it's not like you were completely wrong.”

“I encouraged you to go to your death. Can you honestly say that you would have been as reckless, had my words not spurred you on?” He hadn't even admitted that to himself before now. Black had made the decision on his own, and Bellatrix had killed him, and he gave each a measure of the responsibility for the final outcome, but he knew his words had been oil on smoldering embers.

“That was still my choice. And really, I can't say I wouldn't have gone if you hadn't been such a bastard about it.” Sirius shrugged again. “I probably would have gone, for Harry.”

It felt so strange, to be so easily absolved by this man he had spent a year working into a frenzy. Black had been the target for much of his rage and self-loathing that year. And thus the target for much of his cruelty. As had Harry.

He clenched his jaw. “Four years ago, I'd have given you to the Dementors without a thought. Without hesitation. If I did not kill you myself.”

Sirius grimaced. “Four years ago, you found me standing over three children, one of whom I'd already hurt, with a man you knew to be my friend, and dangerous. I might not have liked you, but I can't really say I blame you.” He shook his head, then met Severus's gaze. “You had more reason for threatening me then than I had for sending you up against a werewolf when we were boys.”

The memory twisted, knife sharp and bitter as poison in his mind. “You sent me to die. Or to be savaged and turned.” He saw Lupin flinch at that, but his attention was on Black.

“Yeah. And I'll admit, I never really felt remorse about it, not till Harry set me straight on it. Would you believe, he chewed me out over how we treated you?” Sirius winced, and there was shame in his expression. “Read me the riot act over that, and a few other things we did to you. I told him we were young and stupid. Truth is, I was young and a bit of a vicious bastard.” He met Snape's gaze. “If I apologized, would it help?”

Severus swallowed hard, bitterness and anger churning inside him, right alongside guilt. His eyes drifted over the three men, his mind twisting between the hatred he'd harbored for each, and his own self recriminations.

“Severus?” James's voice was gentle. It was unnerving.

He swallowed again, and when he spoke, his voice was rough. “I did not ask for your safety, Potter. Not from the Dark Lord. Not from Dumbledore. Not until Dumbledore forced me to decide whether protecting Lily meant more or less than vengeance against you. I resented and hated you for having her by your side. I resented your son for having your face and her eyes. I treated your son like filth, harassed him, insulted him, mocked him, all in your name.”

“I know.” Potter's smile had been replaced with a serious expression, but the gentleness in his eyes, the warmth there, hadn't altered at all. “And I wish you'd been kinder to Harry. What was between all of us wasn't his fault. It wasn't his fault that his eyes reminded you of everything you'd lost. It wasn't his fault that he looked like me, and reminded you of exactly who you lost everything to. Or that I was a large part of the reason  _ why _ you lost everything.”

Severus wanted to retort, to snarl some form of response. He wanted to cut Potter with his words, wanted to see him flinch. But he couldn't. He could only listen as the other wizard continued to speak.

“You were the one who chose your friends, over Lily's protests. You were the one who said that word to her. You were the one who chose to go to Voldemort. I can't absolve you of that, and I won't try.” Potter's tone was stern, and Severus flinched at the statements. They struck too close to home, too close to the things he had so often berated himself with, in the darkness of the night. Then Potter's expression softened, sorrow and remorse replacing the steel in his eyes. “But I...we...we did everything we could to help you down that road. And that... that I will apologize for.”

“Shove you down it, more like.” Sirius winced.

James continued to hold his gaze, and Severus couldn't break away. He didn't want to hear Potter's apologies. The words felt like they burned. And yet...how often as a boy had he wanted one, just one, apology from Potter and Black? Just one acknowledgment that they had hurt him? He swallowed hard. “So quick to apologize. Do you even know what you are apologizing for, Potter? Truly?”

“I have at least some idea.” James didn't flinch, though there was pain in his eyes. He paused for a long second, then spoke, his voice low and even as the words came. “The first time I saw you, before I even knew your name, I mocked you. The first time I ever heard your name, I used it to form a derogatory nickname worthy of a four year old, a name I never stopped using against you.” A pained smile flickered over his face. “We called each other so many vile things at school, and at the end of the day, you still called me Potter. For all the insults you flung at me, you at least always used my real name, always acknowledged my real name. It was not a courtesy we gave you.”

Severus felt his stomach clenching in memory. Snivellus. He had hated that name.

James went on, his tone thoughtful and sad. “I gathered friends, and we spent the next several years making your life miserable. And it was always one-sided. I never did realize, not until too late at least, that there's so little point to beating someone, when the odds are so stacked in your favor. Two-on-one, three-on-one, four-on-one, though Remus had at least some sense, and only jumped in when you really lost your temper. By the end of our fourth year, we had a map that could tell us where you were, at any time of day. I had an Invisibility Cloak. By the end of fifth, we were Animagi. We had so many advantages. And yet....” James met his eyes. “You never stopped fighting back. You never stopped, never gave up. Even with such terrible odds, you fought back.” He lifted one hand, running his finger across his cheekbone, where Severus remembered hitting him with a Cutting Hex, that day by the lake. “And you did it well.”

James shook his head. “I think...on some level, that I envied you, though I could never admit it. Did you know that?”

A bitter laugh shattered Severus's control. “Envied me?  _ Envied  _ me? You? Gryffindor's Golden Boy?” He spat the words. “You had everything, Potter. Money. Friends you could trust. A circle of adoring fans to hang on your every word. Teachers who adored you, made constant exceptions for you. Good looks. Athletic skills that most would kill to have. Excellent grades. What could you have  _ possibly  _ envied in me?”

“Because, you had none of it, except the grades, and I knew it. And yet... I still couldn't face you, couldn't best you. Not one-on-one. And I couldn't break you. I couldn't make you quit. I could humiliate you, hurt you, shame you. I could show off, out perform you in everything except academics, outshine you in almost every way, but in the end, in the things where it counted, like sheer nerve and determination and courage, I couldn't be better than you. And I knew it. I'd never felt that way before, never had someone who could make me feel second best like that. Until you.” James grimaced again. “That's why...I'm sure you remember what I said that day?”

Severus knew which day. The day that had lived for so long in his memory, a burning brand of shame, humiliation and scorching pain. “The only excuse you needed to torment me was because I existed.” Knife sharp pain wrenched through him. “For that...because I made you feel...inferior...through no fault of my own, through no effort of my own, you thought it was all right to torture me, assault me, humiliate me? To destroy my life, to take from me the one thing I truly loved?”

“Yes.” James met his eyes, and he saw in them remorse and sorrow, and sincere regret. “By the time Lily forced me to see what I had done, it was too late to apologize. I'd already destroyed you. We both knew that you'd gone with the Death Eaters by then. And I knew...that it was, in many ways, my fault. Aside from being completely alone, which no one should have to be, where else could you go? I'd made sure of that.”

“And yet, I was still alone, in the end.” Snape felt the words wrench from him, painful to say and painful to hear. “In the last, I stood alone, and only your son and his companions were there to grant me even the merest hint of something like pity. Or compassion.”

“I know.” James nodded. “I know. God...I wish I could do it again.” A corner of his mouth turned upward. “Dumbledore told me Harry pictures King's Cross as the meeting point, and a train as the road on. I wish we were on the train, Severus. I wish we were on the train and 11 years old again. I wish I could do what I should have done then.”

“And what would you do?” Severus bit out the words.

“I'd give you my hand. I'd give you my protection, like I gave Lupin. I'd let you teach me, what it means to be a man who never gives up.” James smiled wistfully. “I was...thinking of you a bit, that night in Godric's Hollow. Not consciously, really. Mostly I was thinking things like 'shit' and 'this is impossible' and 'Peter betrayed us'. Plus 'I hope Lily and Harry escape'. And I was terrified, scared witless. But...in the very back of my mind, when he leveled the wand at me and I knew it was over, just before I died...I knew I was still standing there because it's what you would have done, if you'd been in my shoes. And, just once, I was alone and outclassed, and I wanted to have the same kind of courage you did.”

Another bitter, edged laugh escaped him. “You know I told the Dark Lord the prophecy that set him on your heels. That caused him to hunt you.”

“Yes. And I know that you went to him and begged safety for Lily, at least, the minute you knew we were being targeted. And I know you went to Dumbledore right after that, to ask for protection for us. Even me. I know you took a risk that I would never take, could never take, not in a million years, to become a spy to protect us, to pay Dumbledore for our safety.” James shook his head again. “You might have set him on our trail, but it wasn't half as deliberate as the things I spent years doing to you. And you did more than anyone could have asked, trying to stop him. You had every right to walk away the night we died. Dumbledore failed. We failed. We died. And yet, you stayed, and you protected my son, even though you hated him for reminding you of all the worst that was between us.”

Severus swallowed hard. James caught his gaze, faced him, and spoke in slow, measured tones, each word falling like a rock into the burning stillness that stretched between them. “Severus Snape, I forgive you for the danger you put my family in, the danger you did not intend for us to face. I forgive you for the things you did to my son in my name, in the name of old bitterness and past wrongs. And I...we, all of us, ask  _ your _ forgiveness for the things we have done to you. For all the hurt we caused, for all the humiliations we visited upon you, for all the wounds we left on your soul.” He bowed his head, and Sirius followed suit. 

Severus swallowed hard. He felt...almost dizzy. The world seemed to shifting, tilting, as it had when he'd realized Harry was going to release him from his tortures, rather than add to them. He didn't know what to say.

If he'd thought they were insincere, he'd have brushed them off with a laugh and a taunt. But he could tell that Potter meant every word, as did Black. And it was...

It was everything he'd wanted, in the bitter years of his school-boy days. And it derailed him utterly, threw him so far off balance that he thought he would fall. He wanted to mock them, to sneer and curse, but that would have meant rejecting the words. A part of him did want to reject them, but so much of him had wanted just one of them, Black or Potter, to apologize just once. To apologize in a context where he could believe they meant it, rather than feeling they did it to curry favor with the Professors, with Dumbledore or with Lily.

He remained frozen, torn between his shock and his old pain. Finally, Lupin stepped forward with a smile and laid one hand on his shoulder.

Severus startled, and almost knocked his hand aside. But the compassion and understanding in Lupin's face stopped him, caught him unprepared. Lupin chuckled, but in a kind way, and squeezed his shoulder in a light clasp. “You know, we're one Marauder short, these days.”

He blinked. “What?”

Black and Potter both laughed, and Sirius grinned at him. “He's right. We're one short these days. This isn't exactly Peter's place.” A thin sneer twitched his lip, then vanished. “What do you say, Snape? Care to turn all that creative spell work into a bit of pranking? We've all the time we want, here.” He gestured to the grounds of Hogwarts that surrounded them. “And all the places in the world as well, if you've got a mind for a different setting.”

Severus stared at him. “You aren't serious.”

Black snickered, and so did everyone else. “Well, I am, but...”

“We do mean it.” James smiled at him. “You would be welcome to stand with us, any time, Severus. You've already proven that you were the best of all of us.”

“Worst.” He couldn't help the correction. “I was a Death Eater, Potter.”

“Best.” James returned the statement, serene once more. “I was a prat. And you were also a spy, and a man who saved my son. If there is nothing else to bind us together, there is that. We here, all four of us,” He gestured. “We four all died to save, protect and help my son.”

That, at least, was true. Severus found himself relaxing, and the world seemed to settle into place a little. But still... “I don't know.”

“That's quite understandable.” Remus shook his head. “Fortunately, there's plenty of time to think about it.”

“Remus is right.” Sirius shrugged. “We're not that hard to find, either. All you have to do is look.”

Severus swallowed, his thoughts whirling. He was tempted to make a sharp retort, to spit some venomous comment. But...it felt like too much effort to fight. In the face of their sincere apologies, he could feel his anger collapsing, being replaced by emptiness, as it had with Harry. And in the emptiness, their offer ignited a spark of warmth. He was hesitant to embrace it, fearing it would burn if held too close to the old wounds of his life. And yet...he couldn't find the anger, the strength to throw it away in blind fury, as he would have at the start of this conversation. “I will...consider your words. I cannot promise anything more than that.”

“That's not unexpected.” James grinned. “Actually, I was afraid you'd tell me to get the hell away from you, or try to hex me.”

“I wanted to.” He saw no point in lying. “But...your son gave me a mercy I did not deserve from him, and asked only that I keep an open mind.” That hadn't been Harry's exact words, but the boy had suggested that more than Dumbledore might look for him.

_ Wouldn't you want to know...if they did want to mend things? _ Yes. He had wanted to know. And now that he did....

“If you like...” James's voice was hesitant. “Lily's waiting by the lakeside.”

Pain knifed through him, shocking him with the agony. He saw Lupin's eyes widen, and Black's, and knew that the hidden wound upon his breast was bleeding once more. He flinched. “And why would she wait for me?”

“That's for Lily to say.” Potter's voice was warm with compassion. He half-lifted one hand, as if to brush the painful cut, then dropped it. “You should go.”

Something painful twisted his mouth. “You do realize, you are suggesting I speak to  _ your  _ wife. I loved her, Potter. I do still. Surely you know that.”

“I do. But things, rules, are different here. Love is...more fluid. Boundaries are...less rigid. You'll understand.” James shook his head. “You were her friend, if nothing else. And she was important to you. You should go to her.”

He wasn't sure he could. It hurt to even think about it. He felt...frightened, in a way he hadn't even felt when Voldemort had set the snake on him.

He wanted to apologize.

The last time he'd had something apologize for, the last time that he'd tried to ask for her forgiveness, she'd slammed the portrait hole of Gryffindor Tower in his face. And this was so much worse. His stomach ached with the fear of what she would say to him, how she would condemn him for his sins. His heart ached with the need to speak to her.

James shook his head, then stepped forward and placed a hand on his shoulder, the one Lupin wasn't already clasping. Sirius stepped back, and James smiled. “Go on, Severus. You both need to talk to each other.”

Sirius smirked. “We'll be waiting, Snape, whenever you're ready. And hey, if you can't join us right at the beginning...” He held up his hands. “Any time you want a friendly match, I'm easy to find.”

He felt James step back, Lupin as well, then the two hands on his shoulders moved to the middle of his back. Before he could do anything, he felt a gentle push, as Lupin and Potter together shoved him towards the lake.

It wasn't a hard shove, not nearly enough to do more than make him stumble forward a step or two, but the message was clear. Go. He straightened himself, set his jaw, and stepped forward, striding along the barely visible path to the lake.

Severus walked until he reached the edge of the lake. He finally stopped, the water tapping the shore six inches from the toes of his shoes. The shoreline was empty. He stared out at the water, not sure if he was relieved, or heartbroken.

His thoughts were in turmoil. He was tempted to stay where he was, just standing at the lakeside. He was tempted to start searching the shores, looking for Lily.

Part of him was desperate to find her, to see her and speak to her. Part of him wanted to run, run far away, anywhere but where she might be.

Potter's words, the words of both father and son, echoed in his head, and his heart constricted.

He couldn't run. Even if her only act was to curse him, he wanted to see her, to finally apologize. He set his jaw, then turned toward where the forest came down to connect to the lake. It had been one of her favorite spots, when they had attended school.

Lily was standing a few feet away, watching him with a serene expression on her face. There was even a hint of a smile at the corner of her mouth.

Severus froze, pain knifing through him. The last time he'd seen her, other than in a photo he had stolen from Black's house, had been when he had embraced her body and wept, the night of her death. The last time he had seen her smile like that had been watching covertly as she and Potter went on a date. The last time she had smiled at him like that had been when they were fifteen years old, over twenty years ago. Before he had let one word, and the opinions of others, destroy everything between them.

“Lily...” The word breathed out of him, barely louder than a whisper, full of aching longing and anguish. And there was nothing more he could say. Nothing he could do besides stand there, drinking in the sight of her.

The smile curled a little higher on her mouth. “Severus.”

The last time he remembered her saying his name had been the argument outside the portrait hole, the night after he had called her a Mudblood. The night he had failed to break away from the Death Eaters. The night their friendship had been broken.

The word hit him like a hammer-blow, like a boulder crashing into a dam, somewhere in his heart. Something inside him fractured, then shattered, and the words began to pour from his lips, a torrent of agony and grief and regret that had been building for seventeen years.

“Lily...I am sorry. I'm sorry. Please, I didn't...please believe me...I didn't...I didn't mean to...I thought telling him was harmless. I thought...I didn't know he'd take it so seriously, I didn't know he'd decide to target you. I didn't think he'd act on it. I swear, I didn't. And I tried...I tried...I tried to convince him to choose someone else...” Bitter regret choked him with the knowledge of how she must have viewed that. The knowledge that he'd been willing to condemn someone else to die in her stead. “I'm sorry...I know that's not good enough...I know you must despise me for this...I...you must hate me, I only asked Dumbledore to save you originally...I...the way I treated the son you died to save...you must think me despicable...and I'm sorry, I couldn't bear it...he has your eyes...and James's face, and I couldn't, I...I didn't want...I'm sorry. I'm sorry Lily. I'm so sorry for everything. For everything...I'm sorry. I'm sorry...”

He fell to his knees, aware that tears were streaming down his cheeks, that blood was soaking his robes, hidden by the black of the fabric. His chest hurt, like he was being flayed with a burning knife, and he was trembling, shaking as he had the night he had gone to Dumbledore. “I'm sorry...I couldn't...I could not even protect him in the end...not even that. I failed you...I...could not save anyone you loved...I...caused your death...Lily...I'm sorry....I...”

A hand touched his shoulder, warm and kind, and he choked on the words. He couldn't bear to look up. He stayed as he was, head bowed, trembling, blood seeping from the scar on his chest as tears dripped over his face.

There was movement in front of him, as the person whose hand rested on his shoulder knelt in grass. Then a hand touched his chin, gentle but firm, and tilted his head upward to meet Lily's green eyes.

Lily was kneeling before him, looking him in the face, her eyes warm and compassionate, as her son's had been. As her husband's had been. The sight broke his heart again. “Lily...I...”

“Shh...” She placed one finger on his lips. “I know, Severus. I know.” Her fingers brushed the side of his face.

“You should hate me.” His voice was a raw broken whisper. “My thoughtlessness condemned you.”

“But you tried. You tried very hard. And you are not the only one whose thoughtlessness condemned someone.” There was sadness in her eyes. “I should have been able to forgive you, as my son did.” She took his hands in her own. “That night...”

“But you were right. And you knew it. How could you not have condemned me, knowing what I was on my way to becoming?” He felt sick, recalling what had passed between them. “What I said to you was unforgivable.”

“No. It was regrettable, and foolish, and cruel. But it was the words of a boy who was in a terrible place, in a horrible position. A humiliated, frightened and hurt boy. No one speaks reasonably in such circumstances. I did not have to join your tormenters afterward. And I should not have refused to forgive you. After all, you were sincere, were you not?”

“Not enough. If I had been...I would have repudiated the others, my Death Eater friends, and apologized until you believed me.” his head bowed, his throat tight around the words. “I should have done so...I should have been that strong. I should have...”

“We all have things we should have done, Severus.” Her voice was calm and quiet as she interrupted him.

“You must hate me...” Her fingers pressed against his mouth, stopping him. Then Lily's hand forced his head up once more.

“I don't hate you, Severus.”

He twisted away. He couldn't bear to meet her eyes, that kind gaze that scorched his heart like a burning brand. “You should...after what I have done...the man I was...” His right hand clenched over his left forearm, where the Dark Mark had been branded in life.

Lily took his arm, moved his hand, then unfastened the sleeve with careful hands and rolled it up, to reveal his unblemished forearm. “There. See. It's not there.”

“But...you know...I've killed...I have done...so many terrible things. Albus...”

“Albus told us, what he'd asked of you. But we already knew. After all, you did say it: In the end, the ones you watched die were the ones you could not save. Including Albus. And you gave him mercy.” Lily smiled. “I know there was a time when you didn't care. But...in the end, the choices you make are what's important. And in the end...your choices protected people, saved lives, even the horrible ones. You killed Albus, but you saved a boy. You did not love my son, but you protected him, and you gave him your heart, to guide him, there at the last. In the end, Harry was right. And James is right too. So is Albus.”

“You...you cannot be sure of that. After what I have done...”

“I can.” Lily put a hand to his face, and forced him to meet her eyes. “Everything that can break a soul leaves a scar here. So...”

Her hands dropped, and began to undo the fastenings of his robes. He wanted to push her away, to pull from her grasp, but he was powerless to move. He closed his eyes, hands clenching as Lily unfastened the last of the buttons on his shirt, then pushed the cloth aside to reveal the bleeding wound over his heart.

Lily's fingers brushed over the wound in a tender caress, and Severus shuddered. Harry's brief touch had felt almost like a violation, Lily's burned like fire.

“You've grieved, all this time.”

“Always.” He had always loved her.

“You gave everything, risked everything, for me. For my memory.”

He felt as if he were drowning. “I swore to Dumbledore...that I would do anything for you.” he choked, fresh tears streaming over his face.

“Shh...” Lily laid one hand over the wound, her touch as gentle as it had been long ago, when they had held hands as children, when she had tried to console him over his parents neglect and constant fighting, before he had developed the armor of indifference he had come to rely on. She reached up with her other hand and wiped the tears from his cheeks, the backs of her fingers trailing over his jaw.

He flinched at the touch. It had been years since anyone had touched him with kindness or tenderness, unless one counted Madam Pomfrey, when she healed him after incidents with the Dark Lord. It had been years since he had permitted anyone to do so. He had in fact, taken pains to create a personality that encouraged people to stay away from him.

His throat hurt, his chest felt as if he were being crushed, save for where the warmth of her hand, still covering his wound, burned with the force of a bonfire. He was trembling, but he couldn't pull away. All he could do was speak, a single, choked word. “Lily....”

“It's all right. It's over. I forgive you everything.” Her hand cupped his jaw. “I forgive you, Sev. For everything.”

Sev. She hadn't called him that since they were fourteen. Since the year before their friendship had shattered.

He gasped, a broken sound, and raised one hand, reaching for her. Lily held out her own hand, and then he was wrapping his arms around her, clinging to her, tears once more flowing from his eyes as something inside him broke. He could feel her hand on his chest, her other arm wrapped around his shoulders, offering comfort. The last remnants of his control disintegrated and he buried his head in her shoulder, buried his face in her long red hair, and wept, his body shaking with the force of his sobs as he cried in near silence in the arms of the woman who had been his dearest friend and only love.

There was no way to know how long he spent, weeping in Lily's arms. He only knew that finally, finally, the tears dried away, leaving him feeling...fragile and drained. But he felt...calmer, as he had when Dumbledore had embraced him, as if some long-held and torturous wound had been healed.

His chest no longer burned. He let go of Lily, stepped back. Her hand fell away to reveal his chest, and the pale scar where a bleeding wound had been before. He looked at her.

Lily smiled at him. “Love and forgiveness are healing powers, especially here, Sev.”

Love. Forgiveness. Lily had forgiven him. He felt as if a weight had fallen from him. He swallowed hard. He felt...lost, almost. He turned to stare at the lake.

He had grieved so long, been bound by guilt and anguish for so much of his life. But now...there was no duty to be performed. His penance had been paid. He had been judged and acquitted and forgiven.

Lily came to stand beside him, watching the water ripple in the rosy twilight. “What will you do now, Sev?”

“I...I don't know...” He swallowed, struggling to find words, half afraid of driving her away again. “Lily...I...you know...you must know...how I feel.” He winced. “But you are still James Potter's wife.”

Lily laughed, but it was a gentle, merry laugh. “Maybe. But here, love is what it is. The fact that I love James and the fact that you love me don't have to be conflicts here.”

He swallowed again. “And did you...did you ever love me?”

Lily touched his shoulder, and he turned to face her, almost afraid of her answer. Lily smiled a soft, sad smile, and reached up to caress his face. “Always, Sev. Even at the worst.” She stroked his cheek, then shook her head. “I...if I had a regret, it was that I wasn't enough to protect you from the darkness, and didn't have the will to stay with you. I let you go...no, I sent you away.”

He shook his head. “No...Lily...” He couldn't find words, so he shook his head again. “No.”

She smiled. “What will you do now, Sev? Will you stay here?”

Severus looked over the grounds of Hogwarts. It had been his home for most of his life, more than Spinners End. Some of his happiest memories had been here, and some of his most terrible. He looked along the shore line, to the place where James and Sirius had hung him upside down and stripped him. The memory didn't sting as much as it should have, not now.

The peace of the twilight grounds of Hogwarts filled him, soothed him. He drank it in, thinking. Lily waited.

Finally he sighed. “I...perhaps. I need time.” He had not expected to be forgiven. He had not thought that he could forgive Black and Potter and Dumbledore so easily. He wanted some time to himself, he wanted to think.

“There's always time here, Sev. Unless you choose to go back. But you don't have to.”

He nodded, understanding without explanation what she meant. The option to start over. To live life again. He had not known it was a choice that could be made, but then, he hadn't expected to have the right to make any choice at all.

He wanted to rest, for now. He thought of Black and Potter, and the offer they had made him, to stand beside them. It occurred to him that he had no idea how one could play pranks in Heaven, or wherever this was.

Dumbledore had said this place would be what he wanted. What he wanted...

He wanted a place to rest. He had spent the past 18 years on his guard, constantly watching what he did and what he said for one reason or another. The closest he had ever come to relaxing that guard had been his persecution of Harry Potter, a vent for the pressures and the guilt and pain that plagued him. And his rants at Dumbledore.

He wanted to speak to Dumbledore again, as he wished they had spoken in life. For all the years they had worked together, they had spent very little of it in simple conversation. A rare game of chess, or drink of brandy. And Dumbledore had always gotten him a Christmas and birthday present. But most of their time had been spent in discussions of school, and later, tactics for the Dark Lord's downfall. And he had never quite gotten over his bitterness at the old man, for what he had asked of him. He wanted a different conversation.

He wanted to face Black and Potter again. This time in a fair fight, and without the bitter, cruel rivalry that had been between them. He had wanted, all throughout school, to have just one fair match with each of them. He recalled that Black had offered him a friendly match. Perhaps he would take him up on it, and Potter as well, if possible. Even Lupin. He had often felt he owed the man for the Boggart incident with Neville Longbottom four years ago.

He wondered what it would be like, to join in fellowship with men who did not want to use him, did not want to hurt him. With men that were actually trustworthy. He had learned early on that Death Eaters were anything but. Lucius Malfoy and his family had been the closest thing to true companions he had known, and even there, he had known he was of second importance, and Lucius would have betrayed him without thought if needed.

The concept of true fellowship, that was also something to explore, perhaps.

He wanted to watch what happened. The Dark Lord had been defeated, and Harry Potter, the boy he had sworn to protect, even at the cost of his life, had survived. Those goals had been the only things that had kept him alive and moving for all those years. He wanted to see what kind of world would be built from the ashes of war, what his sacrifice had bought.

He had tried and failed so often to protect the children Dumbledore had left in his care. He had to admit, he had seen most of them as duty and nothing else, and a fair few he had disliked, but there was still a part of him that wanted to know that they would be all right, those that had lived, wanted to see them go on. Like Draco, and his young Slytherins, for whom he had been Head of House and mentor. And, admittedly, Potter and his friends. Even Longbottom, who had earned his respect in the courage he had displayed last year, and his gratitude for killing Nagini.

He turned back to Lily. Further down the shoreline, he saw four men. Three young men, his own age, and one old man in long twinkling robes. Waiting for him.

He let his gaze wander over Hogwarts. The walls, the grounds, the lake and the forest. For all it's complicated memories, it had been the closest thing he had to a home. And it was peaceful here. He knew, somehow, that his quarters would be there for him. Or that he could choose new ones, if he wished.

His shirt and robes were still open. He buttoned them up, but left the button at his throat open. Then he turned back to Lily once more. “I will stay, for a while.”

“Good.” Lily slipped her hand into his. “I'm glad you've come back, Sev.”

He nodded. “So...am I.” And for the first time in longer than he could remember, he meant it. He curled his fingers around her hand, as he had when they were children, and was rewarded with a brilliant smile.

He felt one corner of his mouth curl, the first smile since his boyhood that was untainted with bitterness and anguish. He lifted his gaze to meet James Potter's knowing one, and gave a brief tilt of the head, to be answered with smiles from all four men. Dumbledore was beaming.

A slight lift of the other corner of his mouth answered their smiles, and then Severus Snape turned, still holding hands with his dearest friend and love, and strolled back toward the Castle.

**Author's Note:**

> A little bit of healing for all involved.


End file.
